


It's not BS

by CabbitAndTheWeasel



Series: It's Personal [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexuality, Coming out of the Closet, Depressing, Don't fuck with a mothers love, Gen, Howard Stark level bad parenting, Hurt feelings, IRL, Moms are the best, Not realising there was a closet in the first place, Relationship Issues, Sexual Identity, at least one family member was cool with it, getting closet door slammed into face, introverted personality, issues with parent, it's not black and white, personal issues, porn mentioned, sex related topics mentioned, undefined ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbitAndTheWeasel/pseuds/CabbitAndTheWeasel
Summary: A woman comes out to her father in a way she thought was nonchalant enough to be considered not a big deal. She had given him all the signs, all the chances to ask. But apparently, father and daughter were not on the same page.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back I had never really thought of myself as being in the closet. I told people I am asexual when they asked. I never really intentionally hid it, I just never told anyone for no reason. But to finally just give it a name in front of my dad…it….it honestly felt like a betrayal for him to call it bs. It had taken me since I was 14 to understand this part of me, it took me until I was 23 to accept it completely. And…I was so proud of myself because I felt confident in something about myself for once. I felt confident that day and he ruined it.
> 
> It’s like…So you can accept your sister being attracted to women, but you can’t take your daughter not being attracted to the idea of sex? So many people already knew about my sexuality that I never thought it would sound so…offensive to dad. The dad who would always tell me he loved me no matter what, you know?  
> I love my dad, I don’t think I could ever hate him, even when he brings me down like that, but…there’s a limit. Even I can’t silently ‘endure expectations’ forever. He can’t just…deny me like that because he had no understanding…
> 
> Love, Romance, Sex, Gender, it’s not black and white. These things are multi colored rainbows….
> 
> Why can’t he see that?

She stood in her room and leaned against the door. Slowly, she let her weight against it click it shut. She breathed in, silent, shaky, before turned around slowly and turning the lock to her door as if to shut out the world that was so suddenly and off handedly pulled out from under her.

She turned back to face her room and wandered listlessly to her desk, still logged in from skype when she was talking with a group online. She logged off and took a moment to buy time for her phone, she needed it, needed to speak to someone she knew would understand her more.

She closed the laptop and curled up on her bed and did not let her eyes sting as much as they wanted to.

Honestly, at this point she hadn't thought it would be a big deal. They had talked so much about topics like this. About sexuality, about gender, about religion. Her aunt was a lesbian and he loved his sister regardless, so what was the big fucking deal.

**‘Mom, I need to talk to you seriously for a moment’**

She sent the text.

She knew her parents loved her. Twenty-three and getting ready to graduate college, a high school deploma, a passion for art, and an open mind to everything about gender and sexual identity. They knew this, HE knew this. She had given her dad big fucking hints, every chance for him to ask, to take notice. She had told him she had no preference in gender.

How had he never thought to ask: _“Is that so? Why is that?”_

She didn’t want to conceive to have children. Why make a child when you can give one already on this earth a permanent home, one that needs it?

She didn’t want any romantic relationship she involved herself in to be defined by sex. That wasn’t romance to everyone. Cuddling to her was just as intimate.

Sex, she had told him, grossed her out. She wasn’t being immature. She had watched porn, several differen’t kinds to be exact to understand and see if she would get a rise out of it. A man and woman, one woman, two men….Hetero sex didn’t appeal to her, it disgusted her to a point.

She understood reasons behind sex, she supported those who wanted it, but it just did not appeal to her.

If she was still a teenager, she would still be wondering if something was wrong with her, if she was sick, or broken. But she wasn’t and she knew that. But with one sentence he made her feel that way. Disgusted in her own short comings as s human, By a comment she didn’t know if he really meant it or not.

**‘Right now? Whats wrong?’**

Her mom text back.

She could feel the pin pricks in her eyes and closed them for a moment as she collected her thoughts and swallowed the lump in her throat. She started to text back.

When she was fourteen, she noticed she started looking at girls more. In eighth grade, she had a friend, Grace, that she thought was really pretty, she would admit to having a bit of a girl crush. Grace had long, straight black hair, she had always liked black hair, her eyes were hazel and both she and Grace were fans of Evenesence.

It confused her at first, because she still knew she found guys attractive. She hadn’t had much experience with people of other sexualities yet, other than her aunt dating a woman. And when the fact she preferred the company of girls more than guys came up in the class she and Grace shared, the boys snickering and calling her a lesbian, she shrugged it off. She hummed, didn’t deny it, agreed without a care and went back to reading her book.  
She didn’t really care about sexuality at 14, didn’t care about dating or kissing. She was in an unfamiliar state after moving away to live and help with her grandparents and was still adjusting. She had no time to conform to a school she neither liked nor was treated well in.

By the time she moved back to her home town, she noticed she found people of different skin colors attractive too. She loved the darker skin tones of those of African descent, it always looked prettier than hers, and their lips were full and plump and it made her wish her lips weren’t so average. She adores Asian men, though a lot of that had to do with the fact Asian culture interested her a lot. But she also liked their lean bodies and round faces, they looked so cute and squishy. Latino’s were interesting, though she had yet to see one she was particularly attracted to…

She was trying to understand herself my this time. She wasn’t straight, that was for sure, was she bi? Was she gay? What else was there?

Whenever her friends would talk about sexual topics she would laugh with them, or play the part of the naïve friend, the virgin. But deep down, she didn’t understand everybody’s interest on the topic. Sex was….Sex was kinda gross. And it made her uncomfortable.

Why would she want something shoved into her? For pleasure? There’s other ways to feel that way.

She got her first boyfriend at eighteen and she didn’t really want him. He wasn’t one of the types she thought was nice to look at, he was sweet, and they were both kind of awkward about it. But her best friend set her up and if she thought he was a good match for her, then why not try it? For the experience, right?

Apparently, six months into a relationship it’s ok to ask if she could give him a blowjob.

She thought it was a joke.

It took two conversations with a couple close friends of her, one of which had more experience in the sex department; another was a guy whom she had had a crush on in high school. She thought a lot too, about whether she wanted to go along with it, talk this relationship she had no attachment to, to a level she was not comfortable with going to…

In the end she refused him, it wasn’t something she wanted right now. What she had failed to mention, was that she didn’t want that from him or anyone at all. She broke up with him a week later, she made him cry, she cried for him.

At twenty she could finally put a name to what she’s been feeling all these years. She wasn’t broken. She was—is asexual.

It was a thing, and was a normal, natural thing to be and her eyes watered up because she understood and she felt so content.

At twenty-three and confident after accepting asexuality, after telling a handful of her closest friends and giving her dad so many hints and chances to openly ask her…She let it slip as nonchalantly as she could while talking about something that had happened that day to her. She just thought he would think nothing of it, she had given him all the signs that she wasn’t straight. She was just…she was just putting a name to it finally.

It was no big deal!

Until it was.

He called it BS. Bull shit. Told her to go away. And she just stood there, silent for a few seconds. She couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly she felt very, very broken.

She had heard and read all these horror stories about children or adults that finally came ‘out of the closet’ so to say and got nothing but hate.

She had to admit, she never thought she’d be one of them.

She told her mom through text and she cried.

She said she was proud of her. Her mom was proud of her for telling her, for being asexual, for being unique and telling her.

Her mom told her to come over to her house for the night, to visit her since dad wasn't taking the reveal so well.

That was an understatement. When she packed an overnight back and was heading out, her dad’s truck was out of its parking spot.

Well fine, if he was going to run away, then she hoped someone punched some sense into her stubborn dad. Like a Hallmark scene where a parent confesses at a bar their kid wasn’t straight and some awesome stranger said: “So, what the fuck is the issue here?” and then he would have an ‘I fucked up moment and call. Apologize for saying something so harsh, say he loved me and was proud. Even joke about how this just means I’m that much more special and that he hopes one day I’ll find that special person that will understand me.

There was no call, no ‘I’m sorry's’ or ‘I love you’s’. An hour after she gets to her moms after sending him a text so he’d know where she ran off to, all she gets is an **‘ok, good night’** text back.

There was no Hallmark movie scene. No hug or "I'm proud of you for telling me this'...nothing. Just an empty black hole in her stomach that churned her stomach until she wanted to bawl her eyes out while driving on a dark country road in the darkness of night.

She refused to cry when she drove out of the county to see her mom.


End file.
